Red Snow
by DudeISoDumb
Summary: Four years into the future the Kingdom of Kippernia is attacked and plummets into oblivion by the ravages of war. This story recalls a tale of death, destruction, and despair, as a pair of rivals must sacrifice everything to save their Kingdom and all they hold dear. Please read and review!
1. Descend

HELLOO! First thing is first, this is my first fanfic (wow that was alotta "first" lol) and I really hope you like it, (I actually wrote it around last winter) it almost made me fail my SOC 120 (I should've been reading the chapters but I was writing this instead) , but because I stopped I got an A! WOOT-WOOT ^-^ What really made me go back into fanfiction was the epic show Jane and the Dragon, omg! I just LOOVE IT! I know I'm old (19), but man, I am really young at heart! Sorry for my babbling, it's just that I am really excited! PLEASE RATE AND REVIEW! It will mean the world to me :3

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton.**

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Red Snow

Chapter 1: Descend

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Frozen fragments danced around two dark silhouettes that had their backs pressed against each other as they crouched into their fighting stance. The blue moonlight twinkled to divulge that one had a lithe womanly figure with fiery red hair and cautious emerald green eyes, the other had a stalwart statuesque physique with raven black hair and sharp eyes of silver grey.

A metallic sound rose when they unsheathed their blades, the crescent moonlight shone to reveal the two forms entirely besieged by hostile enemy soldiers in a dense snow-blanketed forest.

The snow gently descended from the partly clouded sky when the crimson-haired girl recalled with a wry smile, the reverberating words of her mentor four years ago: "Learn to work together, as one day; your lives may depend upon it."

The girl quickly turned her head around to face her companion; his eyes were focused on the enemies before him, but seemed to discern her eyes upon him, which triggered him to veer his own head.

His astute grey eyes softened when he held her gaze, he then gave her a reassuring smile and turned back to face his foes.

The snow gave a crunch under the boots of the enemy infantry as they stalked warily closer, the girl whirled her head back at her opponents, a smile bloomed from within her heart as it bubbled to the surface of her face.

She realized at that moment that her mentor could not have been more correct; deep inside her heart she knew she could trust her comrade with her life, and profoundly still, grasped that if she was going to die, it would be an honor to die by his side—even if he was an annoying, childish, arrogant, beef brain—deep down, he was a valiant man whose actions resonated louder than mere words; a person who stuck on until the end, even if conditions seemed dim: he was always by her side.

"Try not to get in my way, Jane," he jeered.

"As long as you stay out of mine, Gunther," she retorted.

Some things never change, thought Jane as she shook her head, her vibrant red curls waved in unison.

The infantrymen paused for a moment, Jane and Gunther were readily alert, the opponents abruptly lunged for a direct attack at the two knights.

Jane and Gunther parried with ease and retaliated the oncoming soldiers, their swords danced in the navy moonlight as their blades pierced their foes, who, in turn collapsed to the ground, their blood seeped into the white snow.

When did all this began? Mused Jane, it seemed like such a long time ago, the lapse in time appeared so distant and remote from the current heavily-heated battle.

Images surged through Jane's mind when she recollected the beginning of the war.

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Sorry for the short chapter, it was actually longer but I didn't feel like rewriting and editing it (too much hw) I promise I'll upload it soon (hopefully) the next chapter will be about Jane's memories before the war started and they will eventually take you back to when Jane is remembering, the whole story actually is her memories leading up to this point.

So far I've only a few chapters in manuscript form and I really have not been able to write any more (writers block or something) but I promise it's all in my head and I will eventually write it soon, so don't worry if I don't update in a while, I really have a lot of homework (doing essays, reading books, college is hard T.T)

Thank you very much for reading, and please review! (me gives you cookie?)


	2. Sunlight and Shadow

Hello! Thank you soo much for all the people who reviewed! You really knocked me out of my writer's block and gave me a lot of inspiration to continue my story! All those reviews made me so happy XD I love you all, and thanks again!

So sorry for not updating for a while, I had so much homework (an essay on the Machiavellian analysis of Blackwater USA, math finals, clay projects) ugh! Well, anyways this chapter is just introducing some things that are vital for the story formation, so please bear with me, it'll be like that for a while, but I PROMISE it will go down the path I intended ( war, battle, all that good stuff ;p ). I don't consider myself to be good at dialogue, so sorry if it seems kind of iffy, I kinds think I wrote too much dialogue…. Oh well. :)

P.S. Forgive me if there are any unrealistic things, I really did not have the time to research any of the subjects on this chapter, so if anything isn't logically true, sorry about that.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton.**

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Red Snow

Chapter 2: Sunlight and Shadow

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The luminous daylight dazzlingly streaked within the window of a tower in Kippernium castle. A figure hastily rolled over the bed it rested on and sharply tugged the warm blanket over its sanguine head to shield her from the sun's bright glare.

"Wake-y, wake-y, Coppertop!" boomed an ecstatic tone.

"Leave me alone, Dragon," Jane tiredly groaned.

Dragon's massive jade head thrust into Jane's windowpane and partially obscured the sunshine in Jane's untidy room.

"Oh, c'mon Jane!" whined Dragon, "It is about time you got up."

He then added matter-of-factly, "And furthermore, if you keep this up you are going to be late for your knighting ceremony. And you do not want that, now do you, Jane?"

"What?" Jane exclaimed as her eyes bulged out as she quickly tumbled out of her bed.

"I said," repeated Dragon calmly, "If you keep this up-"

"That is not what I meant," Jane snapped impatiently.

"Is the ceremony starting," she gasped.

"Yes," Dragon replied with a nod, "you can even check for yourself."

Jane promptly ran towards the window, Dragon removed his head from her path as Jane nervously peered out.

Sure enough, it was starting; flags and banners of flamboyant hues that floated in the autumn breeze were being ushered by soldiers in their military apparel into the Throne Room. Shortly trailed by the King and his Royal Family clad in their beautiful elegant embroidered garb escorted and guarded by gleaming armored knights of the Kippernium realm. Sir Theodore and Sir Ivon were equipped in their ceremonial armor and raiment. Not surprisingly, Jane surmised, her rival Gunther was present, smug as usual.

"Maggots!" cursed Jane.

She whirled around swiftly looking around for the ceremonial armor her mother left for her to wear to the ritual.

"Why did you not wake me up?" Jane scolded exasperatedly.

"I did," answered Dragon, "See, you are awake right now."

Jane paused, turned around and gave Dragon a smoldering stare.

"What?" Dragon asked innocently.

Jane imparted with an exhausted sigh, knowing perfectly well that it was her own fault for not stirring up in time.

"Never mind, green lips," Jane somberly responded as she continued to search for her garments.

"Hey," protested Dragon, "Is that any way to treat a friend?"

Jane softly chuckled, "I was just teasing Dragon, you are such a child."

Jane paused to glimpse at Dragon; his enormous head was peeking through the window, his emerald gem scales twinkling in the brilliant morning sunlight like the stars in the eternal sapphire sky. Dragon's fiery red eyes were beaming with pride towards his trusted companion; he looked ethereal as his vibrant head cast a dark engulfing shadow over Jane's diminutive form. It was six years since Jane met Dragon and started her knight's apprenticeship. If not for Dragon, thought Jane, she would not be where she was now: she would have never accomplished her dream of becoming a knight.

"Thank you, Dragon," Jane said earnestly, blinking away the warm tears that formed in her eyes.

"For what?" asked a surprised Dragon.

"For everything," Jane replied with a charming grin.

"O…k…." Dragon replied puzzled. "Well," he added, "if you do not hurry up, you will miss the accolade you worked so hard for."

Dragon paused to unfold his vast leathery green wings.

"I will wait for you at the Throne Room."

And with that, he flew off effortlessly into the waking sky.

Jane found the armored garb and quickly dressed into the formal attire, lastly enveloping herself with an emblazoned surcoat which bore the Kippernium coat of arms over her shining armor. Jane then walked over to the basin and rapidly splashed water on her face, the cool liquid immediately alerted and refreshed her, when she was done drying herself off, she grasped her dragonblade. Jane gripped the hilt tightly as she focused on the sword; the entire weapon was adorned with dragon runes and beige in color. Forged from the fiery breath of a Dragon, the dragonblade was the only element known to pierce Dragon's impenetrable hide, and Dragon's gift to Jane.

Jane then slipped the blade to its scabbard and securely attached it to her baldric on her back. Then without a moment to lose, Jane took off sprinting armed and armored through the door.

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Thank you for reading! XD The next chapter will be quite short, a lot shorter than any of the ones I am going to write, but it is very important, well to me that is! :p

I have to get started on another essay (T.T) and study for my math final T.T

Have a good day, and don't forget to review! XD


	3. Dream

Forgive me my dears for such the long wait, this chapter is measly in regards to the time I was away. T.T

So much has happened, well, I'll just be making excuses. I'm out of school, and many people say that they have more time to write because of that, but sadly I do not, I swear I need peace and utter silence to begin to write, but there is so much distraction in my house (family that is, they're so noisy! lol) that I do not seem to have the time, if I do begin to write there is no bloody privacy at all, they're (my family) always checking on what I'm doing... well, either way I was also distracted by the World Cup, so fun to watch, I'm happy Spain one! Woot! ^.^ I'm babbling forgive me. ^-^'

Here's the new chapter, and don't worry, it will be the shortest one I am planning to make.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton.**

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Red Snow

Chapter 3: Dream

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The moment Jane was over the threshold she instantly collided with a something and tumbled upon it.

Jane groaned, opened her eyelids and was abruptly startled to be inches away and face to face with a pair of sheepish pearly gray eyes and a flushed face.

"Jester!" Jane exclaimed and quickly leaped off of him.

"Oh! T-there you are Jane," Jester stammered.

Jane stood up, brushed herself off and reached out her hand to lift Jester off the bricked ground.

"What are you doing here?" Jane curiously inquired.

Jester tentatively took Jane's hand and stood up.

"I-I was l-looking for you," Jester responded with a reddening face as he too brushed himself off.

"Ahem," Jester voiced after he recomposed himself. "The ceremony is starting, and a certain lady-knight was missing, so… I was worried."

Jester quickly added, "_We_ were all worried."

Jane laughed, "Soon-to-be-lady-knight."

She then beamed at Jester and added, "You should not have worried."

"I know," replied a resigned Jester.

"I just… could not help it," he added with a nervous laugh.

"C'mon," Jane gestured as she began to sprint. "I'll explain on the way," she called back.

Jester gazed admiringly at Jane, her fireball hair bobbing up and down while swaying in the crisp autumn breeze. Just five years ago, reflected Jester, he had bequeathed her his armor and entrusted her with his dream of becoming a knight. Jane had struggled and prevailed against all odds and was so close to forging their wish into reality. Happiness swelled within Jester, overflowing throughout his body and settled onto his visage.

"Thank you for the dream, Jane," whispered Jester, but his words did not carry through to her. A vigorous cool gale surged and bared Jester's words towards the lucid golden sky.

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Short wasn't it? ^w^'

Well, thank you for reading and please review, the next chapter will finally be getting somewhere... kinda.

**F.Y.I.:** In the book by Martin Baynton "Jane and the Dragon" (the 1st one), in the last page Jester says "Thank you for the dream," there is where I got that line, plus also in the book Jester does give his armor to Jane, the one in the tv series on episode 25 titled "The Last of the Dragonslayers".

Don't worry, I'm more of a JaneXGunther shipper myself. ^-^


	4. Abyss

Oh! Forgive me! :( I'm so sorry, I really had no time in writing this, but since I'm back in school, I'm finding more time to write (for some strange apparent reason lol)

Well, thank you from the bottom of my heart for everyone who reviewed, I'm truly grateful and I love you all :3

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton.**

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Red Snow

Chapter 4: Abyss

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"So you mean to say that you were tossing and turning all night from anxiety and excitement that you could not fall asleep" recalled Jester, "And when you did get some rest you managed to oversleep and begin the day with in a rush, right Jane?"

"Exactly," replied a panting, discouraged Jane.

The wind hastily rushed past them yet the entrance of the Throne Room seemed so distant. Although, when Jane and Jester ultimately reached them they abruptly halted when they encountered the disapproving eyes of Sir Theodore, Sir Ivon and Gunther who were waiting impatiently by the great wooden doors.

"Go on ahead," Jane whispered to Jester, "Tell everyone that I am here."

"Alright Jane," replied Jester, giving Jane a worried glance and a disappeared through the doorway after giving the knights a respectful nod in their direction.

Once the doors of the Throne Room trembled when they shut Sir Theodore sternly spoke, severing the silence that encased them, "Tardiness is not a virtue, Jane."

The resonance of his harsh voice made Jane grasp the gravity of her actions, but the tinged discontent brought her shame.

"My deepest apologizes, Sir," Jane spoke promptly with a murmur and an abashed lowered head. "There is no excuse for my foolishness."

"What is wrong with ye lass?" bellowed Sir Ivon, startling Jane, "Your about to miss the most important ceremony in a Knight's life." He then added furiously, "I do not even then you should be knighted, not with this demonstration of irresponsibility."

Jane's eyes widened with horror as she fearfully looked up, her heart descending.

There was a pause, russet leaves were dancing effortlessly with the wind around the foursome while Sir Theodore was considering Sir Ivon's words. After much deliberation he elicited a decision.

"I am afraid Sir Ivon is right, Jane," Sir Theodore gravely spoke, he then stared at his pupil with piercing eyes filled with disappointment and uttered, "I believe you are not ready to take on the challenges of knighthood."

Time itself seemed to freeze as Jane witnessed her dreams shatter before her eyes, all her efforts and will of making her dream into reality crumbled in a moment and faded to black. Jane was plummeting into a void of pitch shadowy darkness, which engulfed and consumed her thoughts, mind, and heart as she let the words seep deep into her soul. Words that echoed and pulsated in her mind again and again, with each passing reverberation the words grew louder and more piercing; eating away and ravaging her until Jane was drowning in a sea of utter hopeless despair which had choked and smothered her heavy collapsed heart.

Suddenly, Jane felt a warm reassuring hand upon her shoulder which snapped her out of the dark cold abyss and into the welcoming radiance of the sun on the front steps of the Throne Room.

"You are welcomed to stay and watch the ceremony if you wished to, Jane," spoke Sir Theodore gently.

Jane immediately sensed the three men's eyes upon her; she desperately tried to calm herself by breathing deeply. With her head bowed, Jane spoke slowly and with great care so as to not convey her emotions within her words.

"Thank you very much for the offer… Sir Theodore… but I am afraid… I must graciously… decline."

Jane managed to summon enough strength to gradually lift her head and was instantly surprised by Gunther's shocked expression at the current situation. Jane had not seen such astonishment written on his face since childhood. Once Gunther realized her gaze was fixed on him his eyes and visage was swiftly drained of emotion and were locked into the deep familiar stoic sternness so quickly that Jane wondered if she saw surprise at all.

"Very well, Jane," Sir Theodore softly spoke as he removed his comforting hand from Jane's shoulder.

"By your leave, gentlemen," Jane concluded with a bow, then hastily turned around and strode away from the immense wooden brown doors of the Throne Room with a greatly sunken heart and a gravely troubled mind.

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Poor Jane.

Well, I said both Gunther and Jane will be knighted but I didn't say when.

*wink* (For the drama I guess).

Please, don't forget to review :D

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P.S.

If anyone knows where I can get a good bird's eye view of the entire or part of the Kingdom of Kippernia in the cartoon of JatD please let me know, I need some for my upcoming chapter ( and practically the whole fanfic. I've found a few, but I'm not sure it'll be enough). Please and thank you. =]


	5. Warmth

I humbly ask for your forgiveness for the extremely and ridiculously long wait for the update on this story. Two years, my God. Please forgive me, I am truly sorry.

Please enjoy this chapter. Oh, and I think Jane is a little OOC in this chapter, maybe it's her time of the month or something. Anyway, enjoy!

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton.**

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Red Snow

Chapter 5: Warmth

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Heat.

All Jane could feel was burning flames throughout her aching body as her soul within felt utterly frozen cold. Heat escaping her eyes, the warm liquid cascaded down her face in a ceaseless flow. Flames seeped from her smoldering throat in hot ragged breaths as Jane lurched forward with lightning speed even though her legs ardently burned with each forceful step. The yellow trees rushed past her.

Jane was running faster and faster to flee from those echoing, heavy words that were deeply etched into her shattered heart. The immense weight of those dark haunting words dragged her soul into inescapable darkness, and deep within the core of that horrible abyss was the strong feeling of guilt.

Images flashed before her mind: her wish of becoming a knight, her oath to Jester, Dragon's friendship along with his help in securing her dream, her smiling friends and parents once the news of her accolade was announced.

_I let them down… I let them all down_, thought Jane.

All of Jane's struggles, her sweat, blood and tears, all for the glory and honor of being bestowed upon the honorable title of Knighthood, the completion of the greatest wish in her heart: shattered.

The dream slipped from Jane's hands, her foolish hands. She was the very person who broke her dreams. That precise thought horrified Jane as she pumped her legs even faster. The merciless flames licked her exhausted legs until she buckled beneath them and collapsed, crumbling the golden leaves underneath her knees. Jane gave an anguished scream reflecting the torment within her heart and soul then plummeted to the brown ground underneath, shuddering and struggling to draw breath.

Jane did not know how long she was lying there in a daze on the earth's cold soil. The autumn leaves and trees were swaying to each cold burst of wind passing through them. Time did not seem to pass at all; an eternity appeared to have passed by with little changes to the earthly surroundings. Suddenly, Jane's ears caught something faint and strangely familiar in the wind. She could not discern the sound, but it seemed to be calling out to her. The unintelligible sound grew louder and clearer in Jane's mind as she struggled to sit up. Jane heard the sound of wings beating in the crisp fall air and a strong familiar voice calling her name. A dark cloud lifted from her eyes as Jane realized it was her most cherished companion, Dragon.

A great rush of wind blew past Jane as Dragon slowed for a landing and the earth trembled as he did so. Jane could not even bear to look up at her friend, to find disappointment in his face would destroy her.

"What happened, Jane?" asked Dragon, "I was waiting for you in the Throne Room, but you did not show up. The King went on to knight that short-life Gunther."

Jane's head sunk even lower.

"When I asked Sir Theodore about you," continued Dragon, "he said that you are not yet ready for Knighthood, and that you ran off into the woods."

Dragon paused then asked in a concerned tone, "What's wrong, Jane?"

She could bury her emotions no longer.

"I am sorry," Jane softly cried. "I let you down, Dragon. I am so sorry…."

"What?" asked Dragon, taken aback by Jane's sobs. Never in all the years he spent with Jane had he seen her in so much pain, it surprised and worried him greatly.

"I am sorry," Jane whispered, lowering her head to the ground as warm tears streamed down her cheeks and trickled to the cold ground below.

"What are you apologizing for, Jane?" Dragon gently asked.

"I have let you down, Dragon," Jane choked, "I am not a Knight."

Dragon's ruby eyes widened in surprise at her words and the emotion it contained. Dragon's lips then formed an understanding smile.

_Leave it to Jane to judge herself too harshly_,mused Dragon.

"It's alright, Jane," Dragon soothingly replied, "Sir Theodore said that you are not yet ready, and I suppose old rusty legs could be right."

Jane's face was crestfallen.

"_Could_ be," Dragon firmly repeated. "And if he is wrong then just prove it to him."

He then reassured her, "Remember, Knight or no Knight you will always be my friend, Jane. And I can assure you that will never change. I will always be there for you, _always_."

At those words Jane's crying ceased as she lifted her tear stained face to behold Dragon.

It was dusk; the sun was setting directly behind Dragon's head lighting up his emerald scales in the fading light. The clouds caught the purple, pink and orange colors of the setting sun as a gentle breeze swept past them, rustling the leaves around Jane and the Dragon.

"Dragon…" Jane called out earnestly and softly. "Thank you."

She had just come to her senses and realized how foolish and childish she was acting. The shock of being told that she was not going to be knighted caused her to behave so irrationally as to believe that it was the end of the world and that she had failed everyone she cared about.

_My time to be knighted will come when I am ready_, thought Jane._ I am not ready yet. Dragon is right, everything is going to be alright, and there is nothing to be upset about._

"Now," said Dragon cheerily, "is it not time for patrol duty?"

"Yes," replied Jane with a smile, "I believe it is."

Jane quickly picked herself up off the ground and brushed away the crumbling leaves and dirt off her surcoat. Dragon lowered his jade head and Jane then nimbly mounted the base of his neck, placing her hands on his golden horns. Dragon then unfurled his wings and beat them thunderously into the air; the ground beneath them becoming further and further away as Dragon took off into the sky, flying towards the sunset. The warmth of the sun's last rays and the warmth of Dragon's words brought peace into Jane's heart and soul.

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Hmm, there were times when I really did not know if I should just scrap the whole thing, but I decided against it and posted it up. *sigh* Well, please review, they mean so much to me! I have a whole outlined planned for this story, time is the only factor against me since I cannot find the time to write this story, but I promise you, I will finish this story unless I die unexpectedly. But in that case how should you know that I died? Heck, I haven't updated in two years! Oh dear! Forgive my ramblings, please review and tell me what you guys think! :)


	6. Horizon

Thank you all for reviews, you have no idea how happy it makes me. Your reviews really help me continue writing.

On another note, I was thinking of uploading this chapter only when I was finished with chapter 7, but I just had the strangest feeling all day, like I should upload this chapter, so I did. Well, the next chapter is going to be quite long, the longest chapter so far. I do not know if I should cut it in two. I am half way done writing it, so it will take some time before I will update again. And school will be staring soon. :(

Anyways, please enjoy! :)

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton.**

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Red Snow

Chapter 6: Horizon

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A war cry thundered as a wooden blade hurtled towards Jane's face. She instinctively arched her back and the wooden tip narrowly missed its mark. Jane saw an opening and lunged to seize it, but Gunther quickly dodged and commenced a counterattack. Jane blocked the blow and swiftly sidestepped behind him. She struck and Gunther barely managed to dart away as the wooden sword grazed his side. Jane slashed again and Gunther lifted his practice sword to parry the blow. Their wooden swords locked, Jane and Gunther glared into each other's eyes as both thrust with all their might in trying to push back their opponent.

It was two months after Gunther was knighted and the last of the autumn leaves fell to the ground, winter was soon approaching.

Both were panting and bathed in sweat. Locked into the stalemate, the autumn wind wafted the remaining fiery leaves towards them. Jane's arms were tiring; she rarely defeated Gunther by strength of arms alone. The rivals have been sparring all day, only stopping for short breaks and it was well into midday. Their current battle was the tie-breaker, seeing as both had other duties to perform, and Jane did not want to lose. She wanted to prove her worth as a capable knight, to redeem herself from the folly she committed two months prior, well, at least in her eyes.

A smirk flashed on Gunther's face as Jane's feet, once locked to the ground, started to slip as she was gradually being pushed back by Gunther's brute force. Jane summoned all her remaining strength to try to combat his, but it was no use. Her arms gave way as her strength suddenly left her. Instantly, Jane was violently shoved to the ground. She was on her back and gasping for breath as Gunther's wooden blade tip hovered over her neck.

"You lose again, Jane," scoffed a panting Gunther.

He then turned around and began walking towards the Knights Quarters.

"I do not know why I waste my time sparring with a _squire_," Gunther called back. "Sparring with Knights of my caliber is much more amusing."

Jane narrowed her eyes, infuriated, but held her tongue. It was no use arguing with such a dung bucket. After Jane recovered her breath, she rose to her feet and lashed out her anger on the dummy, nearly taking off the head in one clean stroke.

"That biscuit weevil," muttered Jane under clenched teeth.

Ever since her accolade had been postponed Gunther had become more condescending and that made her blood boil. She knew that she could hold her own in a battlefield just as much as Gunther. She knew she wore Gunther out with her swift footwork, which is why the last sparring match lasted so long. Gunther is just too arrogant to admit that Jane is just as a formidable opponent as he is.

_Perhaps that has to do with his rise in status_, thought Jane, _it inflated his already big ego_.

Jane kept slashing at the dummy. Pride contradicted the Knightly Code of humility.

_I hope my head does not swell with the title of Knighthood_.

Gunther moved into the Knights Quarters almost as soon as he was knighted.

_Perhaps a little too eagerly_.

When Gunther did move into the castle he had an ugly bruise on his cheek, and when asked he simply shrugged it off. His relationship with his father seemed even more distant, more cold. When Magnus comes to the castle to deliver his goods, Gunther does not even look at his father, if anything he avoids him. Other than that, in all the years that Jane has known Gunther she has never seen him happier in his life. Well, if one could say "happy," if anything his overall mood appears _calm_. His eyes are not filled with deep confliction anymore. He carries himself with a more genuine confident manner, his steps seem lighter.

_As if the weight of the world has been lifted from his shoulders._

Everyone in the castle knew what Magnus did, how he treated his own son throughout the years. Many simply looked away since it was none of their business; still others judged Gunther harshly for things that were out of his control.

"_It is not for you to judge him,"_ Sir Theodore's voice echoed in her mind.

Jane knows that well now, but could not keep her ill conceived notion of him out of her mind. Well, how could she? Gunther had treated her badly throughout their whole acquaintance, but he had been there for her and pulled through at times of need.

_Only because it was beneficial for him_, she thought bitterly.

Yet, Jane knew, deep down, that it was easier to see Gunther as a rival, an enemy, than as a comrade.

_Because… I…_

Their hatred appears forced, as if they both had no choice and resigned to their ill treatment of one another since reconciliation seems to be beyond reach because of slighted wrongs, injured pride and fear. They are too prideful to apologize for their callous demeanors, and too afraid of what could happen. Afraid of how to act with a newfound "friendship," if it were even possible.

How could they act? After so much strife between them? As friends?

_No. Never._

They both needed each other's hatred to push themselves to the limit to become the best they could be.

They sacrificed any notion of friendship a long time ago and found comfort in their bitterness.

_There is nothing I can do. It cannot be helped._

No matter how hard Jane tried to convince herself of the idea, a nagging voice inside her had told her otherwise.

"JANE!" called a voice, snapping Jane out of her reverie. "It's time for patrol."

Jane sighed.

"Alright, you big frog."

Her anger melted away with each slash at the dummy, but underneath her anger was a growing sense of unease. She put away her practice sword and climbed onto Dragon's neck. Dragon then flew towards the azure sky.

"Gunther giving you a hard time again?" asked Dragon.

"Well, yes—wait! How did you know?"

"C'mon, Jane! Every time you knock that dummy senseless means that that short-life is getting on your nerves again."

Jane was silent.

"He beat you again, did he not?"

"No!" Jane quickly retorted. "Well, yes. We were tied and he won the last match."

Jane glanced away from Dragon, arms crossed.

"He sometimes makes me so mad."

"Then just spar with someone else," offered Dragon, "there are plenty of knights to be had."

"Yes, that is true," she admitted, "but Gunther is the only one that really puts up a fight. I just really want to beat _him_."

"More reason to just get better, Jane."

"Yes," Jane replied after some time.

"Then you can pound him into a bloody mess!"

"Dragon!" Jane chuckled.

"Only joking," he replied. "Unless you really want to."

Now Jane was laughing as they continued to patrol the Kingdom. From their position they could spot the Gold Mines of Kippernia that were heavily guarded. Jane and Dragon uncovered the gold two years ago while on patrol duty. The discovery happened when Dragon was tired from flying and decided to land on the base of a mountainside, and being clumsy, he knocked out a big portion of the mountain with his tail, unearthing gold in the process. Their discovery made the Kingdom flourish greatly from the wealth, both economically and diplomatically. The King receives many diplomats from other kingdoms regarding trade and alliances, thus making patrol duty for Jane and Dragon all the more longer since the Kingdom grew about twice its size.

"So Jane?"

"Um, what?"

"You are spacing out again."

"Well…"

"You have been a little distracted lately."

"Dragon…"

"Do not try to deny it," said Dragon. "Is it about your accolade?"

Jane was silent.

"Did they say when you will be knighted?"

"Until I prove myself worthy again," replied Jane.

"That is a bit vague, is it not?"

"Well, I do not know…"

"It is silly. You are worthy Jane."

"Others might disagree—"

"Well, they are all fools."

A small smile tugged at the corners of Jane's lips. Dragon always knew what to say to make her feel better.

They were now flying towards the ocean to oversee the port. The sapphire sea glittered from the sun's dying light, it was sunset. Seeing the sun set over the ocean always made Jane and Dragon content. They always did it together.

Shadows suddenly crept over the horizon, marring the clear watery surface. The dark silhouettes slowly became discernible shapes and were rapidly crossing the water in the direction of the Kingdom. A chill ran down Jane's spine as her stomach dropped.

"Dragon…" Jane said tentatively. "Do you—"

"Yes, Jane," Dragon replied in a serious tone.

"Are those—?"

"Ships?" interrupted Dragon. "Yes, I can see them from here."

"How many?"

"Too many to count," Dragon shook his head. "There is a whole fleet of them."

Now Jane was alarmed.

_What if…?_

Jane could not even finish the thought.

"Let's go, Dragon," Jane called. "We have to warn the King."

And with that Dragon swiftly flew off in the direction of the castle.

The sunlight was extinguished like flame doused in water and darkness spread over the land.

* * *

I hope this chapter was satisfactory, tell me what you think of the fighting sequence, I worked really hard on it. Please review!


	7. Promise

Sorry for the long wait! I'm surprised I managed to finish this chapter. 14 pages for your pleasure, folks! I hope you enjoy!

On another note I would like to gladly thank the following people for reviewing, you guys are AWESOME: GhibliGirl91, rhetorically yours, poornmiserable, random reader, Arieta41 (thank you so much for reviewing each chapter, I am truly touched), and Lauraeffingiero (my deepest gratitude for your wonderfully long reviews, they really kept me going).

Sorry in advance for any grammatical/spelling error, I'm pretty sure this chapter is full of them.

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton. **

The only thing I own is the story and Lord Victor (if you want to use the character just have a note saying he's mine and you can use him ;D ).

* * *

O0oo0O

* * *

Red Snow

Chapter 7: Promise

* * *

"Is it not exciting, Jane?"

"Um, what?"

"The feast!"

"I suppose…"

"You do not sound excited."

"Oh, sorry. I have a lot on my mind, Pepper."

Jane was sitting on a bench in the Royal Kitchens absently watching Pepper, now the Head Chef, order her cooks to prepare the feast for tonight. The kitchen was packed and busy; Jane wondered why she was even here.

_Well, Pepper did say she wanted to talk about this surprising news,_ Jane thought. _But I suppose she does not have any spare time since we have to prepare for the celebration._

Her mind kept drifting back to the ships she had seen on the horizon, and the imposing feeling of watching them head for the port.

Jane felt a shiver go up her spine.

_Was it really a false alarm?_

"Oh just imagine!" Pepper exclaimed during a brief interlude between cooking and ordering the servants. "It will be like a Royal Ball. With dancing and music. It will be wonderful!"

"I suppose…"

Jane really loved Balls, but during the four years of her knight's apprenticeship her mother had not allowed her to attend without a gown. She was going to relent in the next ball seeing as Jane would have been knighted.

_Perhaps Mother will let me wear my knights' tunic this year, seeing as it is not really _The _Royal Ball._

But the prospect of wearing a gown was not the source of Jane's growing unease.

"Oh, the Queen is so happy, reunited with her long lost brother at last."

"I did not even know that the Queen had a brother."

"Yes," Pepper agreed. "Neither did I. The Queen rarely talks about herself."

"I wonder why we have never seen him," Jane mused. "Surely he would have been allowed to visit his sister."

"Maybe circumstances did not permit it."

"And bringing a few dozen warships did?"

"Oh, Jane," Pepper chided, "The whole court was there to welcome the Queen's brother, and he said—"

"Yes, I know," Jane sighed. "That an early winter storm blew their ships off course going home after a campaign."

"And that they will only be here a week," Pepper added. "To load up on supplies and then they will be on their way. Nothing to worry about."

Jane could not help but feel restless. This seemed a little strange.

_Too strange._

* * *

When the Queen's brother made his entrance at the Throne Room, Queen Gwendolyn was so overjoyed she rushed to her little brother's side and clasped her arms around him as a mother would, full of love and longing. And, like a child, the Queen's brother instantly relaxed in her arms and closed his eyes.

Once they parted the twin ice-blue eyes met, one pair was misted with tears and full of joy while the other was perplexingly emotionless. The only expression those twin faces shared were their dazzling smiles.

Jane saw the Queen's brother's face from the line of Knights flanking the wall of the Throne Room and his eyes seemed strangely familiar to her. She knew she had seen the veiled demeanor of his eyes before but could not quite place the incident.

* * *

"Is Lord Victor not a handsome man?" Pepper dreamily asked, taking Jane out of her musing.

"What?" Jane replied, her face slightly scarlet.

"He is truly his sister's brother," Pepper continued. "They are graceful, charming, admirable—and not to mention beautiful."

"Yes, they have the same eyes, and their hair is the same color," Jane noted. "Only Lord Victor's hair appears a bit darker."

Pepper tossed Jane an amused glance.

"What?" Jane asked.

"Nothing," Pepper said returning to her work. "I am not saying anything."

_Surely Pepper does not believe I fancy this man?_ Jane thought.

"He certainly is much younger than the Queen," Pepper remarked while attending to half a dozen pots and pans that cooked savory dishes. "He is no more than 20 years old."

"Yes, and to be a Captain and Commander of an entire army at such a young age."

Pepper gave Jane another sly sideways glimpse. Her hazel eyes bore into Jane, as if she could read her very thoughts, and Jane felt herself become increasingly uncomfortable.

"Well," Jane said abruptly walking away from the Head Cook's piercing stare with rosy cheeks. "I should be attending to my duties now and you to yours. Good day, Pepper."

As Jane marched out of the Kitchens, Pepper could not suppress her laughter and burst into a fit of giggles.

"Good day to you, Jane," Pepper managed to call back.

* * *

Laughter and music reverberated throughout the Throne Room which was richly decorated for the feast it was currently holding. The whole Kingdom was invited for the festivities, along with all of Lord Victor's troops. Four years ago, the Throne Room could not have possibly been capable of retaining so many people, but thanks to Jane and Dragon's golden discovery, the Castle could afford such luxurious renovations.

The Throne Room was immaculate; stained glass windows adorned the walls next to the fine tapestries and oil lamps that illuminated the entire chamber with an orange-yellow glow. Great mess-hall tables flanked the walls of the room which gave a clearing to the lush red carpet that traveled from the Throne Room's massive wooden doors all the way up the small flight of stairs towards the King and Queen's thrones, which were now replaced by the finest table.

There sat the King and Queen respectively, Prince Cuthbert and Princess Lavinia, Lord Victor and a few Lords and Ladies of Kippernia's Court—all clad in their finest garb.

"Jane, over here!"

Jane turned, looking for the source of the familiar voice and walked over to the table that held all her friends.

"Hello Pepper, Rake, Smithy," Jane said, nodding to each one in turn while taking her seat. The trio returned her greetings.

"Jane, I am so glad you could make it," Pepper exclaimed. "And no gown."

"No gown," Jane agreed with a smile. "Mother finally relented."

A servant appeared and placed Jane's food and drink before her, she murmured her thanks. Smithy, Rake and Pepper already had plates and cups set before them, and they all started eating.

"Pepper," Jane asked. "Is it all right for you to be here? Do you not have duties to perform in the Kitchens?"

"Oh, do not worry, Jane," Pepper replied. "The Head Chef can take a break, besides; I have an Assistant Cook looking after things while I am gone."

"It is nice having assistants helping out with the work," Rake piped in. "It yields to more productivity."

They all agreed on that, Rake's garden had grown and he had a dozen workers to assist with the grueling labor. Smithy's forge and stables expanded so he had a few stable boys to help out with the duties.

"The work load is lighter," Smithy admitted, "with the extra hands pitching in—not that it was too demanding," he quickly added, aware that there were and possibly could be ears listening into any sign of unrest, disgruntlement—and therefore, treason.

"Nothing is too difficult for the sake of my King," he concluded.

All the people seated at the table agreed and toasted to that.

With the increase in wealth, the King's leniency had somewhat withdrew and he had many spies on the lookout for any indication of distress within Kippernia that could lead to rebellion and thus defection into neighboring kingdoms, whose alliances could easily and eagerly shift with a slight change in the scale.

_Money is the root of all evil,_ Jane thought.

The King was trying his best to ward off tribulations and conflict, but the proverb speaks all too true.

"Where is Jester?" Jane asked, changing the subject.

"Providing entertainment, no less?" Rake piped, they all chuckled to that.

As the trio fell into conversation, Jane began to look around the Throne Room and at the tables lined up against the walls. It seemed the seating arrangement was based on class. The peasants were the closest to the doors, then came the artisans, the middle was where Jane and her companions were seated was a place reserved for the King's servants. Then came the military and following that came the nobility who were beneath the King's Table, thus leaving space for a dance floor in the middle of the chamber.

When Jane briefly glanced at the military table she noticed Sir Theodore, Sir Ivon, Gunther and the Knights laughing heartily while drinking their wine. At first Jane disapproved of such public intoxication, but she could not help but perceive the rich mirth radiating from Gunther's face, the rosy tinge painting his cheeks and the light dancing in his once solemn grey eyes. However, what really caught her attention was the unguarded smile that bloomed on his face. Jane could not recall another incident when he appeared so happy. For "happy" was the right word. He looked so genuinely and innocently happy.

Jane felt a sudden warm tingling feeling spread from her heart throughout her chest. It was such a strange sensation, especially since it was directed towards Gunther of all people—but the closest emotion she could relate it to was happiness. Happiness for being able to see Gunther smile after years of seeing him smirk condescendingly, narrow his eyes in frustration and arrogance, carry himself with a mock air of detachment, and, for fractions of seconds, sadness enveloping those grey eyes that now gleamed merrily.

Jane never believed that Gunther was capable of an unadulterated smile, all shields dropped.

_Perhaps it is the wine, _Jane reasoned.

Yet, inexplicably, Jane felt a flowing sense of happiness directed towards Gunther.

_I am happy for him,_ Jane admitted as a smile warmly formed on her face.

Gunther's head suddenly snapped towards Jane's as he caught her gaze. Her eyes widened as she stifled a gasp, her cheeks bright scarlet.

Jane hastily broke the contact as she swerved her own head away from his direction and back at her plate. Her heart beat faster and she felt out of breath.

Jane's quick movement broke the trio's conversation as they turned their attention at her with looks of concern.

"Jane?" Pepper asked. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," she exhaled and gave a not-so-convincing smile to reassure them. "I do believe I drank too much wine."

The trio eyed her suspiciously but said no more of it and continued their conversation, and for that Jane was grateful.

But, if one so bothered to steal a quick glance at Jane's wine goblet, it would reveal itself to be quite full.

* * *

"And Father always said that you died in a raid twelve years ago," the Queen sadly recalled.

"Yes, and if you were to remember," Lord Victor replied. "Father never took a liking to me."

"That is not true! Father loved us both."  
"I wonder if you could ever grow to love the person who took that which was most precious to you," Victor whispered.

"Father never blamed y—"

"Ah," Victor sighed, closing his eyes. "Only in your presence."

It was about an hour into the feast, the dancing was going to start soon. Music drifted to the King's Table. King Caradoc sat at the Head, dressed splendidly as usual. Queen Gwendolyn sat at the King's left-handed side wearing a particularly becoming sapphire gown. Lord Victor sat opposite to his sister, at the King's right-handed side, a place reserved for the most esteemed of guests. He wore the most spectacular Knightly attire, fit for a commander. Lord Victor was dressed in an expensive blue surcoat with rich golden embroidery that was worn over a beautiful craftsmanship of metal that was his breastplate. His outfit was finished with a black cloak that was fastened on with a stunning golden brooch that was shaped into a miniature coat-of-arms. The insignia had a single lustrous diamond at the center, with silver designs woven into the gold.

The King and his men had a little too much wine and were roaring incessantly at a joke made by the King's Fool. This provided an opportunity for the reunited siblings to have a disclosed conversation.

"Nevertheless, Victor," Queen Gwendolyn continued with pain reflecting in her eyes. "Twelve years. Where were you in all that time? Why did you not try to contact me?"

"And now, my people!" the King boomed, calling everyone's attention. "We shall begin the first dance of the evening. Normally, it would be I, but seeing as we have such a worthy guest, I proclaim to give the honor to our Lord Victor."

The hall was filled with the thunderous cheers that echoed across the walls.

"Your Highness is much too kind," Lord Victor replied once the cheering died down. The King motioned him to continue. "Throughout my stay in this magnificent Kingdom, I had yet to meet such a gracious, generous, and noble King. I will not do him the dishonor of rejecting such a benevolent offer. I humbly accept such an honorable proposal."

The great chamber was once again enraptured with the cries of the crowd's approval.

Lord Victor stood up to his full statuesque height, walked around the King's Table and offered his hand to Queen Gwendolyn who accepted, much to the dismay of the ladies in the court.

Lord Victor led Kippernia's Queen to the grand space below the King's Throne. Never letting go of his sister's hand, Victor gently laid his left hand on Gwendolyn's waist while she rested hers on his shoulder. Music that once softly echoed throughout the Throne Room now rapturously filled the marble enclosure.

Beholding Queen Gwendolyn and Lord Victor dance seemed like a dream, it truly was ethereal. The floated gracefully across the dance floor, bodies moving perfectly to the music's rhythm.

"Please," Gwendolyn whispered. "Answer my questions, Victor. Where did you go?"

"You know very well where I went, Elder Sister," Victor replied. "I have already told you."

"Then why? Why did you abandon our Father in favor of another Kingdom's apprenticeship?"

"I did not abandon him, Gwendolyn," he whispered. "I barely escaped with my life."

"What…? Father would never—!"

"Ah, alas," Victor sighed. "You forget all too soon what a monster he was."

Pain clouded Gwendolyn's face.

"Why did you not come to me?" she asked with closed eyes and knitted eyebrows.

Lord Victor crouched his head next to Kippernia's Queen.

"Why should I have gone to you, Elder Sister?" His soft breath sent a chill down her spine. "You were the one that abandoned me."

Gwendolyn's eyes instantly flew open; her face was marred with a shocked expression.

He then straightened his back and towered over the Queen with a beaming smile and an ice-cold stare.

"V-Victor…" she managed to utter.

"Did you know, Gwendolyn, that our hometown of Ankarcrona was in a raid one month ago and that our poor beloved Father perished in the skirmish?"

Queen Gwendolyn's head slightly lowered as her pale-blue orbs were brimming with tears; she was too stunned to reply. A small smile crept onto the corners of Lord Victor's lips as he looked down on the Queen of Kippernia's devastated face.

The music stopped, Lord Victor released and stepped away from his sister, giving her a deep bow, which Kippernia's Queen absently returned while trying desperately to compose her countenance.

People from the court cheered for the beautiful spectacle they beheld, a crowd of dance couples formed on the marbled floor as the music began once again.

* * *

A triumphant smile adorned Jane's face as she held her hand out to Gunther, who was sprawled on the ground.

Three years ago, both squires received a harsh reprimand from Sir Theodore for not demonstrating chivalry towards their fellows after a sparring match—namely, for not helping a defeated comrade get on their feet. However, since their animosity had remained consistent throughout the years, both Jane and Gunther—as an unspoken agreement—only extend their grudging hands in fellowship in the presence of a superior, in this case, Sir Theodore.

"My, my," an unfamiliar voice called. "What a fearsome battle."

Both Jane and Gunther turned. "Good morning, My Lord," they replied while hastily bowing in unison.

"So this is the Lady-Knight I have heard about," Lord Victor pondered while striding closer, King and Queen in tow.

"Lady-_Squire_," Gunther savagely muttered.

Jane briefly glanced at Gunther, her face reddening with rage.

_The donkey is obviously embarrassed that he lost to me in front of the King and Queen, _Jane thought. _But, maybe more so in Lord Victor's presence. _

"Ah, you are yet a squire, My Lady?" Victor asked.

Gunther took a sharp intake of breath, Jane was astounded.

_Goodness, what keen ears he has._

"Yes, My Lord," Jane managed to reply.

"Oh, I cannot believe that," Lord Victor said, curiously cocking his head to one side while his pale-blue eyes pierced her. "You have shown such skill."

"Yes, she has proven herself capable," Sir Theodore chimed in. "But she needs a little more time to improve in conduct."

"How vague," Victor mused as he vaguely stared at the endless sky. "From which I must guess that you have done something quite foolish, Lady-Squire."

Jane lowered her head as her eyes fixed at the cold dirt at her feet.

"Yes, My Lord."

Lord Victor directed his gaze at Jane and graced her with a soft smile. "Well, something must be done to remedy the situation."

_What?_

Jane's head snapped up, her heart skipped a beat and her mind was racing.

"Brother," Queen Gwendolyn interrupted. "That is very kind of you, but I believe you should not meddle in these affairs. It is quite beneath you."

"Nonsense, Elder Sister. I am used to dealing with issues of subordinates and I trust that this will be quite amusing."

"Oh, let him be, My Queen," King Caradoc declared. "I want to see what he has in mind."

Queen Gwendolyn reluctantly relented; she had a swelling feeling of agitation since the Celebratory Ball.

"How about this?" Lord Victor offered after some thought. "If you manage to hold your own against me for, oh, let us say, 30 seconds, you shall then be knighted, here and now."

Gasps rippled through Royalty and military alike.

_Surely he cannot be serious…? _Jane thought. _This is unheard of, 30 seconds… but…_

Her eyes widened in shock as she gaped at Lord Victor's calm visage and chilling eyes that bored into her.

_But… is he that strong…?_

"Brother—" Gwendolyn began.

"What do you say, Lady-Squire?" Victor asked with a gentle grin.

Jane then turned to Sir Theodore for approval.

"It is fine with me if our King consents," Sir Theodore said, but one could sense disinclination and wariness lacing his voice.

"Oh, do accept, Jane," King Caradoc called. "This shall be quite a spectacle."

She scarcely trusted to hope, but hope was already planted in front of her in the form of Lord Victor. He was offering her a chance, a shot to have her dreams become reality once more. Jane would be a fool not to accept.

"I accept, My Lord," Jane said, determination framing her countenance.

"That is what I like to hear," Lord Victor replied. "Sir," he continued, motioning to Gunther. "I bid you, lend me your practice sword."

Gunther stepped up and cautiously gave Victor his wooden sword while throwing Jane an expression she could not quite place.

Ever since the celebratory feast two days ago, with the locking of eyes and the unintentional exchange of smiles something changed within Jane. While Gunther still regarded her in his usual apathetic manner—except for the unusual glances he would toss her while she was not looking—Jane's perception of Gunther had changed. Gunther's unguarded smile not only marked a moment of happiness for him, Jane had been able to witness a glimmer of Gunther more as an actual person and less like an entity of rivalry.

Lord Victor thanked Gunther then turned his attention to Jane.

"Now I would like for you," he said gesturing to the pair of Royalty and Knights, but never taking his eyes off Jane, "to begin to count—softly, if you can—once our Sir Theodore gives us the signal."

Everyone nodded in understanding and agreement.

"Do your best, Squire Jane," Lord Victor whispered.

"Are you ready, Jane?" Sir Theodore asked.

Jane swallowed hard, her heart was racing, but her resolve was set.

_I will do better than "hold my own," _Jane asserted. _I will defeat you._

"Yes, sir."

"Begin!"

A cry issued from Jane's lips as she lunged forward and commenced to rain blows on her opponent.

_I _will_ not lose!_

Lord Victor effortlessly parried all her attacks, his ice-blue eyes were calculating her every movement, his puncturing gaze was searching for an opening—any sign of weakness.

Jane was floating skillfully around her opponent, attacking in all directions, her footwork was masterful.

_I _cannot_ lose!_

Lord Victor suddenly switched from defense to offense. With each swing of his blade Jane barely found time to parry, for he was extremely strong and fast. Every time his sword met hers, she felt the blow's vibrations through her body.

Victor swung wide, Jane blocked, and her feet slightly skidded on the ground. In an instant he was behind her, his blade slashing towards her. Jane's eyes widened in surprise as she turned and tried to parry Victor's sword thrust.

She was too late.

Lord Victor's wooden sword smashed into Jane's ribcage, effectively knocking the wind out of her as she crumbled to the ground. His sword tip was drifting precariously above her neck.

"Ah, how disappointing," Lord Victor sighed, a shadow of a smile decorating his lips. "I do believe I overestimated you, Squire Jane."  
_I…lost?_

Jane's mind was swimming, she could not draw a breath of air and her side radiated with pain at each exertion for breath.

_I cannot… breathe…_

"Jane, are you all right?" a concerned voice called.

_I that… Gunther?_ Jane thought dimly as she stared at the immense azure sky.

"Brother!" the Queen cried. "I believe she is choking!"

Lord Victor calmly crouched down and pulled Jane into an upright position. He then began to gently pat her back as the foursome crowded around them. Jane suddenly took a ragged breath.

_I can breathe!_

"I am deeply sorry," Lord Victor's said; she lifted her watery eyes towards him. "I should not have been so rough with you." He then gave her a seemingly sheepish grin. "Please forgive me, Lady Jane."

To which Jane just nodded dumbly, still in shock over what transpired so quickly.

_It was such a blur… it happened so fast._

"However, I am curious over how she did," Lord Victor said standing up. "Sir Theodore, the time if you please?"

Theodore gave him a stern, cold glance.

"15 seconds, My Lord."

_No…_

Jane could already feel herself sinking, she hated this feeling, it felt sickening, but no matter how much she revolted against it, it was still there—the feeling of failure was smothering her.

"My, my," Lord Victor replied turning once again to Jane, who still sat on the ground. "You did quite well, My Lady."

He then offered her his hand and lifted Jane off the ground.

_I… lost._

Jane hung her head and clenched her fists, her nails burrowing into her palm.

"Now, now, do not fret, my dear," Lord Victor called. Jane raised her head and he rewarded her with an especially dazzling grin. "Rejoice, for I have many in my command who cannot withstand 10 seconds, let alone 15."

"That was quite a spectacle," King Caradoc beamed. "Thank you, Jane. You have thoroughly amused me. Come now," he continued walking towards the gardens. "You must tell me how you have become so proficient with the sword, Lord Victor. I have never seen the likes of it before."

Lord Victor bade his leave and strode alongside the King, leaving Queen Gwendolyn, who watched Jane with a mixture of concern and sadness.

"I am so sorry, Jane," the Queen's voice gently spoke.

"You have no reason to apologize, Your Grace. Your emotions are truly wasted on one so unworthy as I," Jane softly replied, bowing to her. "But I humbly thank you for your consideration."

The Queen smiled wryly, and then followed her brother and husband up the steps to the Royal Gardens.

A pair of blue, grey and green eyes warily watched Lord Victor as he disappeared from view. Both Knights appeared lost in deep thought, eyebrows furrowed in what seemed to be anger.

"Sir Theodore?" Jane asked, awakening both Knights from their thoughts. "May I be excused from my duties for the day?"

"Yes, Jane," Sir Theodore replied. "And do get that wound looked after."

Jane began wobbling towards the Kitchens.

"Gunther," Theodore called back. "Might you not offer your assistance to a comrade in need?"

"Yes, Sir Theodore," Gunther replied as he walked towards Jane, who allowed Gunther to take her arm and give his support in Sir Theodore's company, but inwardly seethed.

_I do not need any help._

Jane was sick with embarrassment. Try as hard as she might, the title of Knighthood keeps eluding her, and in Gunther's presence no less. Her failure only gave way to more of his taunting. Jane looked up at Gunther, expecting him to be sneering in derision at her. She was a little shocked to see his eyes looking ahead, glazed over in deep concentration. Jane could swear she could see concern and anger etched on his features, but by now she was too exhausted to care.

_It will probably turn into a bruise,_ Jane thought distantly as she gingerly touched her side, wincing slightly at the pain. _Most likely a big one._

Jane suddenly felt Gunther's grip on her arm grow tighter, not in a painful manner, but in a comfortable one, much to her surprise. Gunther was never the prime example of reassurance, so Jane wondered why she felt that way now. She absentmindedly wondered how it would feel to have those strong arms wrapped around her in an embrace. Jane immediately recoiled from the thought.

_Why would I ever think of such a thing about Gunther?_

Jane's breath hitched as she wildly searched her mind for an answer.

_I am just tired and confused, _she quickly reasoned. _And I probably hit my head when I fell._

Once they were out of Sir Theodore's sight, Jane jerked her arm away from Gunther and hastily entered the Kitchens.

* * *

It was a fairly early morning, a few minutes after dawn. The sunlight breaking through the horizon was obscured and muddled by the heavy storm clouds that hung over the Kingdom of Kippernia.

Heavy panting and running footsteps were heard traveling towards the Knights Quarters that certainly did not belong to a servant since the clinking of chainmail accompanied the traveler.

The Kingdom always awakened at the crack of dawn, so one could see the King's subjects begin to arouse and start their morning routine.

The runner burst through the door of the Knights Quarters without a thought of propriety and ran up the stairs, followed by the sounds of jeers and disapproval from the embarrassed half-dressed Knights.

"Sir Ivon!" the runner called. "Where is Sir Theodore?"

A crashing sound rang as the said figure violently tumbled out of bed and landed face-first in the process.

"Jane!" the red-faced Knight exclaimed. "What are you doing here?"

Once seeing his own condition, the half-clad Knight turned a darker shade of crimson from embarrassment and rage.

"Get out!" he hollered.

"Sir Ivon, where is Sir Theodore?"

Hearing the desperation lacing her voice and her frantic demeanor alerted Sir Ivon as he instinctively knew something was wrong.

"What is it, lass?"

"Do you know where he could have gone, Sir?"

Irked that she did not answer his question, Sir Ivon nevertheless dismissed the insubordination seeing as something was amiss.

"Well, I do remember him saying about going to the library about something… Jane!"

Jane instantly swerved and ran down the steps at the word "library," much to the dismay of the mortified Knights, whose bellows were heard throughout the Castle.

As Jane was sprinting in the direction of the Royal Library, only one thought kept coursing through her mind—what an utter fool she was.

_Dragon was right, well, he never did take a liking towards him anyways._

Jane dimly remembered the intense gaze he would give Dragon.

How could everyone have been so careless? How could she have been so careless? Sure, Jane was a bit apprehensive of him, something about him seemed… strange. She could not quite pin down what. Nothing in his manners or countenance gave way to this sensation, no, he was the very epitome of chivalry. But there was something else, something Jane could not place. Something about his face… he was a _very_ handsome man; the handsomest Jane has ever laid eyes on. His grin could light up the world, it was so infectious, heartwarming, and even heart-fluttering, but that was not it. His eyes… well, they were a beautiful shade of blue, almost watered down in its paleness, yet the color still shone through. His eyes, however, did hold a glint of something—that which Jane could not quite place. Maybe that was what made her wary and suspicious. But, suspicions or not, how could one suspect him? Given his circumstance towards the Kingdom? Towards the Royal Family?

This made Jane's heart clench as she ran faster.

_Why would he do this?_

Jane immediately chastised herself, it was not her duty to question, it was her duty to obey and protect what needed to be protected—nothing more.

As Jane gushed through the doors of the Royal Library she stopped dead in her tracks at not necessarily what she saw, but who.

"G-Gunther?" Jane sputtered. "W-what are you doing here?"

"Jane," another voice called. "Did you and your Dragon find anything?"

Sir Theodore's voice brought her back from her initial and seemingly unnecessary stupor.

"Yes, Sir," she promptly replied.

"Then tell us," the old Knight then motioned her towards the table where both men hovered over a detailed map of the Kingdom. When Sir Theodore saw Jane's questioning eyes darting at Gunther he explained the circumstance.

"As you may well know, Jane, it was Gunther's idea for the daybreak scouting mission I set you on."  
Jane's eyes broadened at the revelation as she stared at Gunther who had a stoic expression etched on his visage.

"Give us your report, Jane," Gunther said.

Jane did not know why, but the gruffness of his tone made her inwardly twinge. She quickly banished the emotion and regarded the map.

"Lord Victor's troops are amassed at strategic points throughout the Kingdom, here, here, and here," Jane's index finger indicated the locations on the map. "Their warships are blockading the port and the infantry are swarming the main roads, it is as you feared, Sir Theodore," Jane then solemnly looked up at him. "Lord Victor's troops have surrounded the Kingdom."

Gunther was the first to break the thick silence that strained and tensed the room after Jane's ominous news was spoken.

"The troops probably assembled during the night and their actions appear quite clear—Lord Victor plans to attack Kippernia."

The rivals were gazing at their superior, waiting for an order.

Sir Theodore's blue eyes were glazed as if recounting a memory of long past. He blinked and was back in the present.

"Give orders to assemble our troops, have them secure the Kingdom's outer walls and the Castle's inner walls. Have the cavalry outside the Castle walls at the ready. Get two-thirds of the infantry at the Kingdom's walls and the rest inside the Castle's walls."

"And the King and Queen, Sir?" Gunther said.

"We must alert the King and wait for his orders."

"Sir," Jane said. "How do you know Lord Victor has not left the Castle? What if he is still here?"

"Then he is a fool," Gunther scoffed. "He will be captured and this battle will be over much quicker than I would have hoped."

Jane shot him a glare, and then regarded the Captain of the Knights Guard.

"We do not know his motive," Sir Theodore slowly spoke. "We should nevertheless check his room and guard the Royal Family."

* * *

"Must it have been this early, my dear?"

"Well, My King, you did grant him a private audience and I believe it is best to honor the engagement."

"Yes, I am quite aware of that, but—"

"Hush, we are almost there. You would not want him to overhear you now, would you?"

King Caradoc and Queen Gwendolyn were walking in the direction of the Throne Room with two Royal Guards in tow. The day had just begun as it was a few moments after the sun broke on the stormy horizon.

The King threw a hearty chuckle, "I suppose not."  
The Queen was silent; Kippernia's King glanced over an open window and marveled at the storm clouds.

"My dear, look," the King gestured. "It looks like it will snow today."

Once the Queen turned a smile bloomed from her lips and lit her face.

"Yes, I believe it will."

King Caradoc beamed, it always warmed his heart to see his beloved wife smiling and he knew that the snowfall reminded her of her native country.

They stopped abruptly at the Throne Room's massive wooden doors, which were swiftly opened for them by the guards. The Royal pair stepped over the threshold and the dark doors closed behind them with a definite and resounding echo that traversed the walls of the enclosure. The King and Queen strode over to their respective thrones, the two Royal Guards stayed behind on the other side of the closed doorway.

A figure was already in the room and deeply bowed when the Royal pair entered.

"You may rise, Lord Victor," King Caradoc boomed once both were seated. "And what may I owe the pleasure of this audience?"

Lord Victor did as he was ordered; he was standing in front of the thrones underneath the steps and dressed in his usual exquisite attire.

"Your Majesty is very generous to grant my request, and on such a fine morning, no less?"

"Yes, indeed," the King chuckled. "I must inquire, Victor. Do you love the snow as much as your sister?"

Lord Victor glanced at Queen Gwendolyn's reserved expression and a smile sprung on the corners of his lips.

"I have many fond memories of the snow," Victor pensively replied, his pale-blue orbs glazed over, as if reliving a cherished memory. His smile suddenly fell from his face as his eyes slightly narrowed.

"But every happy moment," Lord Victor slowly said, "is always tarnished." He then looked up at his sister, his eyes flashing cold. "Is it not, _Queen_ Gwendolyn?"

"Victor," the Queen breathed, a soft mist was quietly clouding her eyes.

Kippernia's King appeared lost and slightly uncomfortable.

"Well," the King said. "What is it you wanted to speak about, Lord Victor?"

Victor did not reply, but kept glaring intensely at Gwendolyn; his eyes were boring holes into her flesh. The Queen flinched under his gaze as a flood of guilt welled up inside her heart, threatening to burst loose and consume her being.

After glancing at both siblings, Caradoc seemed confused, but seeing his wife's discomfort made him want to end this quickly.

"What is it that you want from me, Lord Victor?" the King asked.

"I want what you promised me," he whispered in reply.

King Caradoc was taken aback; he could not recall any oath made by him to the younger man. However, it soon became apparent to the King that the Lord was not referring to him.

"Victor…" Gwendolyn's voice came out as a choked sob.

Lord Victor's eyes narrowed, his eyebrows furrowed, and those orbs that once held a pale-blue mirth such a long time ago, now flashed dangerously dark.

"I want what you promised me!" he roared, making both Royals flinch under the force.

"I am sorry, Victor," his elder sister breathed, tears slowly carving a trail down her cheeks. "I am sorry… I could not keep my promise… please… forgive me."

Lord Victor was breathing sharply, as if he was out of breath; he was visibly shaking, as if from rage.

All his composure was gone.

"Why did you not take me with you?" he cried.

The Queen rose from her throne and walked over to the edge of the steps.

"I could not disobey our Father," she solemnly said, her regretful eyes met his frantic ones.

Victor violently shook his head, "You promised me!" His whole form was trembling as he wobbly took a few steps back from his sister. "You promised you would protect me! Why?"

His eyes were downcast as a stream of tears surged from his eyes and cascaded down his face.

"Why, Elder Sister? Tell me, why."

"Oh, Victor!" Gwendolyn cried as she rushed to her little brother's side.

She gently took his face in her hands and cupped his cheeks softly, her thumbs brushing away his tears.

"It does not matter now, little Victor," she crooned. "We are together now." She held his gaze and softly smiled. "Is that not what you wanted?"

A thick silence enveloped the pair. Victor's hands suddenly shot up and gripped Gwendolyn's wrists harshly and with a force strong enough to bruise.

"You betrayed me," his deep voice resonated throughout the hall. "That is unforgiveable."

Victor then roughly pushed her away from him and the Queen collapsed on the floor.

Lord Victor then pulled out his blade and strode towards the throne.

"What are you doing?" Queen Gwendolyn shrieked.

Victor paused for a moment to answer her in a voice so cold it matched his ice-blue eyes.

"I am going to take that which is most precious to you."

And with those final words he lunged at a stupefied King Caradoc, sword flashing at his side.

A cry arose from Queen Gwendolyn's mouth as she scrambled to get up and intercept the blow.

King Caradoc saw the flash of steel, heard the rustle of silk and felt a warm splash of liquid as blood painted his face red. He could not utter a scream, much less a word at the horrific scene that played out before his very eyes. All he could manage was a gasp.

In front of King Caradoc was his beloved Queen impaled on a sword, her very own brother wielding the blade.

A gargled cough escaped Gwendolyn's lips as blood erupted from her mouth. Her eyebrows were knitted with pain as surprise smothered her blue eyes. Victor's hand reached up and caressed her cheek, his eyes marred with sadness.

"Oh, Gwendolyn," he murmured, lifting her chin to meet his gaze. "How could you do such a foolish thing?"

Victor regarded her sadly; he then encased her in his arms and whispered quietly in her ear. "I wanted you to witness your world crumble, see the happiness drain from your gentle face as your country is burned to the ground."

He let out a deep sigh that ruffled her golden hair. Victor then released his sister and stepped back, as if to admire his handiwork.

"I suppose I will have to settle with watching the life fade from your sweet eyes."

Victor then bent over and tenderly landed a kiss on Gwendolyn's cheek.

"Farewell, Elder Sister."

And with those final words, he swiftly pulled out his blood-stained sword from her body.

* * *

Jane and Gunther both nodded their understanding and were ready to depart and carry out their orders when a bloodcurdling scream echoed from the halls. The rivals stiffened from the sound, eyes wide with shock.

"It came from the Throne Room," Sir Theodore called, bringing both back to their senses.

Without another word the trio galloped in that direction, each one prepared for the worst.

When they reached the wooden doors a bloody sight came to meet them.

"Oh, no," Jane breathed.

The two Royal Guards were slaughtered and strewn on the floor of the hall.

Sir Theodore dove for the door and ran into the Throne Room with Gunther and Jane both closely behind.

They were not prepared for the ghastly sight set in store for them, and all three were shocked with pure horror.

King Caradoc was crouching in a pool of blood cradling his cherished Queen in his arms, he was weeping bitterly while repeatedly calling, as if in prayer, two words: "My angel."

If one so happened to venture and take a look out the window, one could see smoke rising from the earth as the Kingdom was set aflame, and white fluttering of snow falling towards the ground from the heavens to meet the trailing smoke—as if trying to wash away sin.

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Thank you so much for reading and sticking by me, I really hope you like this chapter and please don't forget to review! Tell me what you think of my newly created character, was he boring? Cliché? Awesome? Or just plain silly? Your comments help me gage what I should or should not do, so don't be shy to drop me a line telling me so.

[P.S. check my page for information on my story update.]

Happy Holidays and Happy New Years! Until next time! :)


	8. Requiem for a Dream

Sorry for the long wait, this is a shorter chapter than the last one, but I hope you like it! I've done something different (I think), and I hope you guys enjoy. :D

Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter, you guys are EPIC!:_ chasingdragondreams_ (thank you so much for your observation! p.s. there is no such thing as a stupid question! :D),_ aliciajay_ (thank you!),_ poornmiserable_,_ GhibliGirl91_ (thank you for your honesty, I hope to make my character more original, and any suggestions would be appreciated :]),_ Lauraeffingiero_ (thank you so much for your review! you really made my day, and your attention to detail is amazing, the bit about the eyes that you noticed is important to the future plot :3 p.s. I would like to know what you expected, maybe I can fit it in somewhere :D), and _Guest. _Thank you again!

(Sorry in advance for any typos/grammatical errors.)

(P.S.: The title was taken from the name of an epic song by Clint Mansell.)

**DISCLAIMER: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton.**

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Red Snow

Chapter 8: Requiem for a Dream

* * *

Tendrils of whispers and quiet sobbing permeated the room. They wafted through the air like incense as if trying to placate a fallen goddess.

A selected group of people gathered around a bedside where a beautiful woman lay breathing her last ragged breaths. Golden hair tumbled around her sleeping form; a fever overtook her body in spasms as pain ravaged her countenance.

The Royal Physicians managed to stop the bleeding but they feared it was too late. When the King asked what was to be done to save her life, they answered: "Prayers to God." Thus, the only people occupying the room besides the remnants of the Royal Family were holy men, who filled the room with quiet prayers.

A distraught Princess Lavinia clasped her Mother's cold hands in hers.

"Mother," she wailed in-between sobs, "P-please… do not l-leave me…"

However, Queen Gwendolyn was unable to hear her daughter's desperate pleas. Gwendolyn's mind was far too gone; with her life-blood greatly drained, her soul was slowly slipping away. Certain scenes of her life played out before her subconscious: cherished memories, heartwarming moments, important events, but one in particular brought immense sadness to her very being.

* * *

"Elder Sister!"

At the sound of that familiar voice, a young Gwendolyn turned as something collided against her legs.

"Little Victor," she gasped in surprise.

His small arms wrapped around her legs and hugged her tightly.

"I missed you," Victor's muffled voice sounded out from her knees, his face buried against her dress.

Gwendolyn smiled as her hand softly brushed against his sun-colored hair.

"I missed you, too, little one."

She dismissed her attending servants with a wave of her hand, as they left Gwendolyn took an opportunity to take a glance at her surroundings. It was the beginning of winter and a blanket of snow covered the land. They were on an inclined path that led to their house on top of a hill. The word "house" would be an understatement. It was more like a castle than a house, seeing as both Gwendolyn and Victor belonged to a very ancient house of nobles. Nevertheless, Gwendolyn breathed easily, she missed her kingdom, her village, her home. She had been away on a trading expedition with her Father to Kippernia, a trading expedition and a marriage arrangement. Her heart thumped wildly in her chest with the thought. She was to be married—to a King… and one whom she loved.

She soon noticed Victor was trembling; it could not be from the cold, for he was well dressed for the weather.

"What is wrong, Victor?" Gwendolyn crooned as she placed a gentle hand on his chin and lifted his face to meet hers.

Her eyes slightly widened as she saw his tear-stained face, immediately crouched down, and placed her hands on his shaking shoulders in an effort to comfort him.

"What is the matter?" she asked again.

Victor shook his head as his hands stubbornly brushed away the tears, and that was when she saw it.

Gwendolyn's hand quickly reached out and took hold of his wrist, she then raised his sleeve, and a gruesome sight came to meet her.

Purple and blue welts were spread upon the entirety of his arm, and when Gwendolyn checked the other, it was in the same condition.

A fierce light shone through her eyes, she then stood up and tugged the boy up the tree-flanked path and into their grand home as his protestations ringed in her ears. When they were safely in the privacy of her room, Gwendolyn whirled her angry eyes at his scared form.

"Elder Sis—!"

Gwendolyn's hands shot out and quickly took off his shirt; a gasp emerged from her lips. Bruises were scattered all along his torso, some looked a few days old while others appeared fresh, but the sight was still heart-wrenching for Gwendolyn to see.

"My little brother… my sweet little brother…"

Victor's gaze was glued to the floor; he was ashamed, utterly ashamed.

_I do not want Sister to know… I do not want her to worry… about me anymore…_

How he wished he had not cried in front of her. How he wished… with all his heart,… that he could hide everything—all his hurt, all his pain, all his sadness, all his _weakness_. But how could he… in front of the one person he felt complete, safe, warm, and above all else—loved?

When he finally managed to summon enough courage to look up, her strong arms enveloped his tiny form as his eyes widened in shock.

"S-Sister!" he croaked.

Gwendolyn held fast and Victor slowly, and oh, so tentatively reached out and returned the embrace.

She was so warm, so strong, and so secure.

How he missed her, how he truly missed her.

The sweet scent of her hair, the reassuring touch of her caresses, it felt like all the pain of his heart was melted away.

_If only we could stay like this… forever, then… then it would not… hurt anymore…_

Fresh tears flooded his eyes, and he let them fall down into the safety of her shoulders, of her embrace.

_If only…_

As soon as his sobs subsided, Gwendolyn gave one more gentle squeeze before her slender arms let go and dropped away from him, exposing his battered flesh.

When her thumb brushed away his remaining tears, she noticed that even his face was not immune to the violence he experienced in her absence since a faintly greenish hue was visible on his cheek—a sign of a fading bruise.

"Oh, Victor," she sadly sighed as her pain-filled eyes caught his. "What has befallen you?"

Victor broke away from her gaze and sorrowfully stared at the floor.

"What has happened, little Victor?"

Silence hung heavily about the room.

"Please tell me!" her urgent voice cut through the air and forced him to look up towards her worried face. His eyes quickly fell. It hurt him too much… too much….

To be the cause of her misery… broke his little heart.

He wished he were stronger, just a little stronger… so she would not have to cry for his behalf anymore. So maybe… one day, he could be the one lending her strength, so she would not have to hide her sadness behind forced smiles, so she could be the one emptying her miseries on his shoulders, so he could soak up all her tears, all her pain, so she could smile again… without worry or doubt plaguing her blue eyes.

But he was not.

He was not strong enough.

Victor slowly brought his azure eyes to meet hers, hesitantly opened his mouth, and slowly began in the softest of whispers.

"E-ever since you l-left, Elder Sister… the o-other children," his jaw clamped shut. He felt anger rage through his body as he fought valiantly against the sudden urge to scream in frustration and despair. He clenched his fist tightly, waited for the feeling to pass, tried his best to gulp down a lump in his parched throat, and dejectedly continued. "The other children beat me… and call me names… they tell me I am a… a demon… because I…" Thick tears started spouting from his eyes again and Victor violently brushed them away. "Because I… I… I killed Mother," he spat out.

His shoulders began to shake as he tried hard, so hard to hold in his sobs and his pain—but he could not—and he cursed himself. He cursed his weakness for the hundredth time. But he was scared, terrified of what was to become of him.

He had to know.

Mustering all his remaining fortitude and resolve, he asked the question that overwhelmed his mind. The one he desperately wanted to ask, but was too terrified to. Too afraid of the answer.

"Is… is Fenrir going to… eat my heart, Elder Sister?"

Victor looked deeply into her eyes, searching for any trace, any hint, that would inform him of the truth. He had to find out if those village children were tricking him, lying to him, terrifying him so he could not sleep at night, or if they were torturing him by telling him the truth.

He gazed into the pale-blue eyes that reminded him of the river he loved, the one that they would both walk by, hand in hand, every morning, the one that led to the crystal-clear ocean, and the very one where he would wander off towards in an effort to find some semblance of solace when his refuge was not there beside him—and that was when he saw it—a flicker of fear that flashed across her watery orbs.

And then he knew.

He knew the truth.

And never did he feel so alone, so cold, and so terrified.

Not even when the servants and villagers ignored him with contempt, not even when the village children held him down and rained blows upon his small defenseless body, and not even when his drunken Father would pummel him mercilessly in a blind rage that left him bedridden for weeks.

All of that was nothing compared to the despair he felt of knowing that all his pain, his suffering, his sadness, his loneliness, his weakness, that all of it, amounted to nothing.

Because he was already chosen, already prey to something that he was utterly powerless against. The vicious jaws of a monster that hungered for the sweet taste of his young, supple flesh.

A cry tore through Victor's throat as he wrapped his arms around himself; he shook so violently that he dropped to his knees. A pair of arms swiftly encased him, and gently rocked him back and forth, trying their best to bring some feeling of comfort and security into the petrified child.

How could she tell him about her constant fear and worry, the reason sleep would elude her at night, the topic of her daily prayers, and the very thought that terrified her very soul? The thought of losing what she loved—what she truly loved—made her heart lurch.

So she clenched him tighter, and crushed his small form against her.

"I will not let that happen," Gwendolyn breathed as water droplets trickled from her eyes. "I will protect you… I promise."  
She loved him like a son because she was a mother to him when their own Mother died at his birth. How their Father hated the very sight of him, because he took his most cherished one away, because that child reminded him so much of his beloved… and because of his curse.

True, it was unusual for the women of Ankarcrona to die at childbirth since they were reputed to be strong and healthy—blessed by the gods above. However, once in every generation, an expected mother would not live to be one and die to give birth to her little one. And that said little one would one day disappear without a trace before their eighth birthday, and no one knew what has befallen them. But one thing was certain, they all vanished, every single one, swallowed up whole by the darkness. Legends told of the heartless wolf-demon Fenrir, sensing a similar soul would draw near the child when it was alone, he would emerge from the shadows, sneak up from behind, and devour the child's heart, thus erasing their very existence.

Fenrir was always smelling, searching, longing for his kindred spirit, the one who would possess his lost heart, and the one fabled to merge with the demon and bring destruction to the land.

Gwendolyn vowed to protect him from his fate, she would never leave him alone… but… how could she? She was to be married soon, to a King in a distant land. How could she keep her promise? Would she beg her Father to let her take him with her? What of her Father's estate? It belonged to the eldest male of their family—Victor. He had to stay to manage his Father's lands once he was gone. She would not be able to take him with her.

Gwendolyn pressed her cheek against his sun-kissed hair. She will have to find a way, she promised him, she promised she would protect him. She knew her presence was the only refuge Victor had against the cruelty the village beset upon him, it was the only defense against their Father's drunken outbursts of violence.

She had to do something. She had to save him.

_I will never leave you alone._

* * *

A single tear tumbled down the Queen's feverish cheek.

So much sadness, so much anguish, so much regret.

If only she had tried harder, just a little harder, but deep down she knew it was not going to make a difference.

Soon after her marriage to King Caradoc, Gwendolyn heard news that her little brother, her cherished one, had died in a raid. But she knew, deep down in her heart, that it was a lie. She knew that they had left him alone, they had abandoned her loved one, they had allowed the darkness to swallow him up and claim him.

And she cursed herself, for her inability to save him. A horrible feeling of guilt overwhelmed her heart, and she tried to forget. Forget his golden hair, his sky-blue eyes, his sonorous laughter, his bright smile, his gentle touch, his kind, and innocent heart—to forget her beloved brother.

And she did.

She buried him in the deepest recesses of her heart and tried to move on with her life without having the guilt come back rushing in full force to crush her. But that happened the moment he came back to her, like she dreamed he would… like she knew he would.

And she was so happy.

He was alive, safe, and well.

_How did he escape his fate?_ she kept thinking over and over.

_How did he free himself from the shadows?_

_I thought you died, Victor._

But he did die.

The moment she looked into his eyes was the moment she knew. Something had changed within him, something was stolen from him. And he was not the same.

When he thrust that blade into her, his eyes, his hands… it was not Victor anymore, no shred of the little boy she knew and loved was left standing before her, it was replaced by a heartless cold being filled with hatred, fury, and darkness.

_It was just a dream… to think you could ever come back to me… just a foolish dream…_

The dam broke, and the guilt flooded into her very core, filling every crevice of her heart, it suffocated her, smothered her, strangled her, and she let herself drown in it.

_I am sorry, little Victor._

She could see him now, as clear as day, that little boy who held her hand as they both walked hand in hand towards the riverbank. She felt his hand slipping away from hers as he ran towards the blue water, and she watched his retreating back as the wind suddenly picked up and swirled around them. He then slowly turned his head to look back at her, his Sister, his protector, and his lips broke into a beaming smile.

An icy coldness enveloped her body, and she let it soak up her being. Her surroundings began to fade, the bright colors were draining way and slowly disappearing into nothing, the golden sunlight, the snowy forest, the azure river, and at last her smiling little brother—he vanished into a sea of white.

_Forgive me._

A sudden and strange warm sensation replaced the chilling cold and spread throughout her body. Gwendolyn felt herself floating up, up, every skyward, leaving behind everything she ever held dear to her heart.

_I am sorry I could not… save you._

She saw a bright light in the distance and reached out for it, it was so far away, she was so far away. The brightness then rushed upon her and wiped her clean of all her pain, sadness, and guilt. This feeling, it was the most wonderful feeling she has ever felt. She never felt more clean, renewed, and happy in her whole existence as in the very moment she basked in the light's warm soothing rays.

Gwendolyn was floating ever higher and higher until she merged with the brightness and vanished.

_Goodbye, little one._

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The next chapter will start right where we left off in Chapter 7!

Was this chapter terrible? Boring? Repetitive? Cliche? Sad? Or just laughable? Please drop me a line, and tell me what you think. Do you want to see more introspectives? Or am I just so bad at them that I should steer clear of them? Please review, I want to know what you guys think! :D


	9. Invasion I

Merry Christmas! Happy Holidays! :D

Thank you for all of your reviews! A special thanks to _mayyybayyy97 (_I would not have started this chapter without your encouragement, this is for you!), _thepapergirl _(Thank you for being the 50th reviewer! And thank you for your review and your thoughts.), and _Lauraeffingiero _(I hope some of your questions will be answered here, and if not, they certainly will be in the upcoming chapters! :) And I got Fenrir from Norse Mythology, but I will drastically change the mythos to suit my story, thank you so much for reviewing).

I apologize in advance for any typos/grammatical errors.

Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer: I do not own Jane and the Dragon, it belongs to Martin Baynton.**

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Red Snow

Chapter 9: Invasion I

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Jane was trying her best to ignore the twisting feeling in her stomach as she sprinted down the Castle's massive halls, but she found that she could not. The amount of blood that pooled on the floor of the Throne Room was too much for her to bear. The image of a dying Queen burned before her every time she closed her eyes. Pain radiated from her chest, it burned her throat, her lungs, and stung her eyes. It hurt. Her heart hurt—for the death of her ideal, the one whom she admired so fiercely. For the death of her Queen.

Jane was once again confused, frustrated, and even angry as the same haunting question kept turning itself over and over in her mind—_why?_

_Why would he do this?_

Jane could not understand, and would never understand such ruthless actions.

_Could it have been for power? If so, why did he not kill the King, too?_

The sounds of battle dimly reached her ears.

_Why did he not kill the King? Seeing as it would have ended this impending war more quickly?_

Jane knew her musings bordered on treason, but could not help it. She wanted to know _why_. How could a seemingly loving brother murder his own sister? She could not fathom it.

_Unless…_

A sudden thought rippled through her.

_Unless he did not mean to…?_

Jane shook her head furiously.

_This is stupid_, Jane thought. _I will not justify the actions of the slayer of my Queen._

She turned a corner and sped towards the open doors leading outside. She had to concentrate on the matter at hand, and the request Sir Theodore asked of her. When Jane, Gunther, and Sir Theodore found King Caradoc and his fallen Queen, the old Captain wasted no time in interrogating the hysterical and shocked King of what had occurred. After some forcefulness from Sir Theodore, their worst fears became reality—Lord Victor had slain a member of the Royal Family. Reacting quickly, Theodore ordered Gunther to relay his earlier battle strategy to Sir Ivon and thus move Kippernia's army towards action. He then asked Jane to head a search party of Royal Guards to fan out to find and capture Lord Victor, that is, if he was still on the castle grounds, while Sir Theodore tasked himself with trying to get Queen Gwendolyn to the Royal Physicians in an effort to save her life. Jane hoped and prayed that the Queen would be spared, but she pushed the thought aside and focused on her duty at hand—that of trying to locate Lord Victor before he left the Castle. Jane sincerely believed that she would not find him, but nevertheless tried to accomplish her duty.

She now galloped down the outside pathway that flanked the Throne Room, swiftly turned a corner, and immediately stopped in her tracks. Her eyes widened and her breath hitched at the sight before her.

* * *

Snow crunched beneath his black boots as he slowly walked down the ice-covered steps, and halted once he reached the frozen water fountain. Lord Victor gradually took in his surroundings and a faint, wry smile crept onto his face. He stood in the empty Royal Gardens; snow leisurely drifted from the frozen sky above and swirled around the enclosure. A white sheet soon formed and shrouded the grounds.

A sigh escaped his lips and the vapor floated skyward before disappearing into nothingness. Victor looked down at his blood-drenched hands, his face was blank, void of emotion, but his eyes were dark, troubled, and reflected an untold sadness within their icy depths.

He turned his gaze to the cloudy horizon, and then gave a bitter, mirthless laugh.

"Oh, I really messed everything up now," he muttered. "Have I not?"

_No_, a calming, deep, and familiar voice resounded in his mind. _We can still proceed as planned. You just have to—_

"No, I cannot … I—"

_What? Is this not what you secretly wanted?_

"No, I-I—"

_Did you not enjoy it?_ the voice drawled._ Did you not relish making her suffer for all she did to you?_

Victor paused, his eyes glazed over, and he could vividly recall the sight of her tears, the feeling of warmth as blood soaked his hands.

"Yes, but—"

_You did not wish for her to die_, the voice finished._ Not until it was all over._

"No," Victor conceded. "I did not."

He hesitated again and furrowed his brows in longing.

"You cannot bring her back, can you?"

He knew it was a foolish thought, a foolish request, but his heart was torn—a part of him was blissfully happy for her death at his hands, satisfied, not of her overall suffering, but at her ultimate demise—however, a deeper part of him, maybe a _truer_ part, mourned for her. For his flawed protector. For his failed guardian.

_No, Victor. I cannot._

The reverberating words echoed through his mind and traversed deep into his marred heart. Victor let out a deep breath he did not know he held as a single tear fell from his eye and traveled down his face.

_You know you cannot stop now. The wheels of fate are turning, little Victor._

The blond closed his tired eyes and listened to the lulling shadow.

_Do you not hear the din of battle? It is calling to you, go towards it, and fulfill our oath._

He could hear the sound of clashing steel in the distance; he could smell the distant scent of smoke in the air.

"You will never leave me," he softly asked, "will you?"

And for an impossibly fleeting moment he was a broken child again—alone, scared, and in pain. _"Never again,"_ they promised under the roar of distant trees, in the flurry of ice and shadow, all those years ago.

_I will always be with you, little one._

A grateful smile blossomed across his visage.

"Thank you."

A sharp point suddenly pricked the back of his neck.

"Move and I will slay you where you stand."

* * *

Jane was crouched in her battle stance, her dragon blade, clenched tightly in her hand, was pressed against the base of Lord Victor's neck, and ready to thrust forward. She was surprised to find him here—in the Royal Gardens of all places. Jane expected him to be in the midst of battle, not lost in reverie while muttering softly to himself. She was taken aback by his repeated irrational actions, but quickly took hold of the opportunity to restrain him. Jane was about to call for backup when dry laughter echoed throughout the Gardens and shook Victor's statuesque form. Her eyebrows flew up at his bizarre response to her command. He fluidly turned around, effortlessly avoiding her blade tip, much to her horror, but Jane quickly drew her sword to his neck again.

"Well, if it is not the Lady Knight?" Victor flashed her a smile that did not reach his eyes. "How are you this fine morning, _Sir_ Jane?" he sneered.

She knitted her eyebrows as her temper flared, but managed to smother a vile reply.

"Move again, Lord Victor," Jane curtly spat, "and I will not hesitate to kill you."

The smile slipped from his lips as his eyes turned dark and deadly.

"Pray, tell me, what do _you_ know of death?"

Jane's eyes broadened in response. Victor's icy stare bore into her, he was searching, calculating with such intensity Jane felt that he was looking right into her heart, her mind, her very self and could read her every thought and emotion. Jane's sword arm started to shake as tremors ran down her body. His ice-blue eyes unnerved her, there was something underneath their stony stoicism, a shadow, a glimmer of darkness—threatening to swallow her whole—that transfixed her.

"Are you prepared to take a life, Lady Jane?" he whispered, holding her upright by his gaze alone. "Are you truly prepared?"

After some difficulty, Jane was able to move her jaw.

"To protect my Kingdom," she slowly spoke, "I am prepared to do what is necessary."

Victor started grinning again, amusement tinted his eyes.

"Ever the dutiful servant, Lady Jane?"

He stepped closer, reached out his arm, and gently grasped her blade with his blood-coated hands.

"Do it then," he dared, pressing the sword to his pale neck. "Fulfill your duty and slay me."

Jane's mind reeled back in a whirl of confusion and utter surprise.

_This has to be a trap; Lord Victor will not willingly give up … would he?_

The snow continued to fall; Jane could see the fire behind Victor in the distance. Jane knew she should take this chance, she knew in her heart that horrible things would happen if she did not. If she could not do what was necessary, if she could not take his life now, all the terrible things that will follow at his hands would be her fault. All of Victor's sins would be hers to bear. To protect her Kingdom, to fulfill her duty she must do this. She had to kill him.

And even with these thoughts in her mind, she still struggled to move her hand.

_Why am I making this so difficult?_ she chastised herself.

The wind blew, and with it carried the cries of her burning Kingdom.

_He is a murderer, and the slayer of my people_, she rallied._ I have to do this to protect them._

Salvaging her courage Jane thrust her sword arm forward.

* * *

She felt her blade slowly move, she saw the tip break the delicate skin of his neck as Victor calmly watched on. He was not smiling and his blue eyes were not sneering. He looked at Jane in a way she has never been gazed upon before. It could be described as a sincere consideration, watching her in rapt attention, and unending patience. As if he was waiting a lifetime for an answer—a confirmation—to something he knew a long time ago.

As red blood trickled from his wound, he closed his eyes, finally breaking their contact.

In that fleeting moment, he moved, in a blur of blue and black he sidestepped and disappeared from his position in front of Jane. Before she could even gasp in shock he was behind her, his blade drawn, his sword arm snaked around her shoulders as the bladed edge lay horizontally upon her neck, ready to behead her in one fluid strike.

Victor slowly bent his head closer to hers.

"I thank you for your answer, Lady Jane," he whispered. His warm breath tickled her ear and sent shivers shooting up her spine.

Jane's mind reverberated loudly with a cacophony of questions, but one in particular stood out.

"What answer?" she breathed, aware of the hard-pressed steel nipping her neck.

He smiled tenderly, longingly.

"If I deserved death, my dear Jane."

She was not expecting that answer, and it genuinely surprised her, but what astonished her the most was his tone. It was no longer playful or condescending. It was sincere, serene, and sad.

She felt another tremor creep down her back.

Why was he being so frank with her? He had no reason to, did he? Nevertheless, Jane saw a greater problem at hand—her imminent death. She has to stall him, so she could think of a way to free herself.

"And how did I do that, my Lord?" she spoke, louder this time, but instantly regretted it since the blade bit into her fragile neck, drawing blood.

He sighed; his breath kissed her hair and created a puff of white air in the cold.

"I do not care for the judgments of those with stains in their hearts, but _you_," he wrapped his left arm around her waist and pulled her closer, much to her alarm and dread. He shifted his head and placed his chilled cheek against her own. "I have yet to see a heart as pure as yours," he closed his eyes.

"Flawed, yet flawless."

Jane's heart skipped a beat; she was left stunned and speechless.

This was all so strange to her; she was crushed with a flurry of emotions that confounded her to no end. Just when she believes she has him figured out, he reveals to her a part of himself so boldly that changes her perception of him entirely.

In his arms, Jane felt both warm yet cold, both safe yet in danger, both alive and on the precipice of death—both cherished and hated, all the while being held by he who as everything yet has nothing.

"If one as pure of heart as you, my sweet Jane," he whispered, "could condemn me to die and sacrifice that purity in the process," he opened his eyes, an untold exhaustion seeped from those pale-blue orbs. "Then I truly deserve death."

His tone, his voice—both were laced with that which she could not place. He spoke to her as one who meant the world to him, as if disclosing a deep-buried secret, as if he bared his heart for only her to see—and it set her own aflutter.

"Why are you telling me this?" she breathed.

He turned his head slightly and caught her green eyes in his azure gaze.

"Because you asked it of me."

And she saw it again.

In that instant she saw those haunted blue eyes that seemed so familiar to her, as if she saw them in a dream, in another lifetime, in her forgotten memories. She saw that which she could not place.

"Who are you?" she questioned. "I feel … like I know you …"

He beamed; his eyes alight with dark delight.

"I am a murderer, a conqueror, a destroyer, but what I am to _you_," he leaned in and tenderly pressed his warm lips against her frozen cheek. "You will have to uncover for yourself."

Victor untangled himself from her, and stepped back from a petrified Jane.

"Farewell, my dear, sweet Jane," he drawled. "Until we meet each other again."

She whirled her head just in time to see the pommel of his sword fly towards her and smash against her skull. Jane was swallowed up by darkness before her body hit the snow-laden earth beneath.

* * *

"… ane?"

"… Jane?"

A fallen Jane was slowly rousing from her forcefully, and rather violently induced sleep.

"Jane?" a distorted voice called. "Are you all right?"

Jane groaned, and with a great effort opened her eyes. Her vision was blurry, she blinked, and things slowly came into focus. She saw a strangely familiar shade and pattern of blue in front of her. She blinked again and saw a familiar face.

"Jester?" she croaked.

"My goodness, Jane," he sighed, his worried gray eyes were taunt. "What happened to you?"

She suddenly realized that she was on the ground, and that her head ached fervently while a certain blond flashed into her mind's eye and Jane shot upright.

"Victor!"

She swiveled her head left and right, surveying her surroundings and winced at the stabbing pain that radiated from the side of her head.

"Jane, do not move," Jester called, taking her shoulders and trying to gently lay her back down. "You are wounded, your head, it is—"

She wriggled free from his grip and struggled to her feet.

"Jane," Jester pleaded, standing up and quickly caught her when she wobbled and nearly fell. She gingerly gripped her head, moaning softly at the pain, when she felt a warm liquid on her fingers she extracted her hand to see it caked in blood.

"Jane," Jester started, his voice rising in outrage. "Did Victor—"

An explosion cut him off, both turned their heads to see the flames rise up even higher over the northern side of Kippernia. Jane's eyes narrowed in cold fury. She had failed to kill the murderer of her Queen, she had failed to fulfill her oath to protect Kippernia's citizens, the sounds of slaughter, and crackling flame reached her ears. She was unconscious while her Kingdom burned. Jane tightly balled her hands into fists, and swung to face her old friend.

"What has happened, Jester?"

Jester knew what she meant, and he wanted to dissuade her from doing what she was about to do, but once he saw the fixed determination in her eyes; he knew there was no room for persuasion. He wanted to know what happened to her, and why she looked so distraught. He promised himself he would ask her later, but for now, he sighed and relayed what he knew.

"Sir Ivon and Sir Gunther are marching the Knights and infantry to counter Lord Victor's attack," he looked off towards the reddening horizon. "Sir Theodore just rode off to join them … The Queen …" his gaze lowered.

"Does she still live?"

"I do not know," he quietly murmured.

Jane looked at Jester, and noticed that he was scared—scared for his Queen, his Kingdom, himself, and for her.

"It will be all right," she soothed.

Jester's head snapped up and regarded her carefully.

"I should be the one telling you that," a flash of self-hatred entered his eyes, and then vanished. "I am not the one about to march off into battle."

Jane gave him a wry smile, sheathed her fallen dragon blade, and began to move towards the castle gates. A hand gripped her arm and stopped her.

Jane turned to Jester's pleading face.

"Please, Jane," he whispered. "Be careful."

"I will," she responded with a nod.

Jester reluctantly relinquished his hold on Jane, and watched her run off towards death and destruction as the snow fell and as flames rose—and as a Dragon's shadow scoured the chaos below.

* * *

The Kingdom of Kippernia had two massive stone walls, one enclosed the Castle and the second wrapped around a wide perimeter of Kippernia's Castle Town. However, many people lived outside Kippernia's walls—all of whom were peasants: farmers, and herders by trade. They lived on the land their King lent them in exchange for a percentage of their yearly yield. The peasant farmers and herders were a tightly knit community, they lived a relatively close distance to each other and because Kippernia's lands were fertile, many people populated the outskirts of the Kingdom to live in relative ease since King Caradoc was not a cruel King, his taxes were not unbearable.

A once happy community that at one time was filled with the sounds of laughter and music now ringed with a song of sorrow and death.

Their cries cut through the thick smoke that erupted from their burned homes as Lord Victor's army pillaged, raped, and destroyed Kippernia's peasants and livelihood.

The surviving peasants ran for their lives, towards the safety of the Kingdom's walls and there is where Kippernia's Knights now stand. Mounted on battle horses and flashing steel they rode forth covering the Kippernian's retreat. Their goal was simple—to protect the villagers, but nothing is truly as simple as it sounds.

The peasant population was huge, some lived far away from the Castle's perimeters, and Lord Victor's army was large and fanned out to inflict massive damage to their resources.

Sir Theodore, Captain of the Knights Guard, had to make a quick and painful decision—to save what they could they had to abandon many to their fate. Even if the Knights tried to reach those on the outskirts, they would arrive too late and sustain heavy losses.

His weathered, gloved hand tightly gripped against the reins of his horse as he charged northward towards the fires, and smoke, against the heavy tide of bloodied and screaming villagers as the infantry followed close behind.

* * *

As Jane passed the Castle's walls that were situated on a hill, with the glorious ocean to her right, Kippernia's Castle Town opened before her to reveal the horrors that befell it. The smoke she had seen exiting the Throne Room had been small compared to the raging inferno that engulfed the farmer's lands.

The Kippernian Castle Town gates were open, and she could see the figures of refugees filling into the Town Square.

A sudden crashing boom startled her; she turned and gasped as she saw flames licking the Castle's Walls behind her.

_Why…? How…?_

Another explosion sounded, and that is when she saw it—Victor's warships that peppered the waters were equipped with catapults and were hurling lighted caskets of tar.

The soldier's screams rent the air as Jane ran back to the Castle and took the task of retaliation, seeing as both Sir Theodore and Sir Ivon were leading the charge.

Quickly taking control, Jane ordered their own catapults to be set and loaded as she oversaw the soldiers's work from the parapet above.

As the oncoming flaming projectiles whizzed past Jane, she took aim of the enemy ships and aligned burning tar caskets of their own.

"Fire!" Jane bellowed, thus sending a blazing counterattack.

Their bombardments sailed the air and all landed on their targets, critically hitting the warships and sinking them to the icy waters below.

Jane smiled, training under the tutelage of a keen-eyed Dragon had its merits, and it paid off well. Her smile soon faded, and she ducked as a burning casket flew dangerously close to her head. It made contact with the training grounds below and set half a dozen soldiers in flames.

She had never heard such piercing screams of utter agony, and it chilled her to her very bones.

A rumbling crash knocked her off her feet as the impact collided with the wall she stood on. Chaos reigned as the warships bombed the Castle's walls unmercifully, unrelentingly. The ranks broke as the soldier's gave way to panic—all scrambling and fleeing for their lives. Jane grit her teeth and her fists in rage, she stood up, held her shoulders back, her head held high and commanded order in her voice alone. She gave the soldiers courage with her commandeering presence as they returned to their post, and continued to aim and fire their catapults.

* * *

As Dragon soared, the snowy skies above he could see all the carnage from his lofty height. He has witnessed many battles in the over 300 years of his existence, mostly from his travels, but he has never taken part in any of them.

Dragon just watched from afar and wondered. Wondered why these short-lives would be so set on destroying each other—he always considered it foolish, if not slightly and darkly amusing.

He could not understand those battles since, at the time, he did not understand the concept of a home. He never did have a home of his own. He was always moving, and rarely stayed in one place for long periods of time. It was only until he met Jane that he had found a home, the place in which he was born—the Kingdom of Kippernia.

A strange feeling of déjà vu took over, and he understood then, those kingdoms that he had seen all those years ago, all the bloodshed and destruction—all that was happening now—they were just defending the right to have a place to which they can belong to. And that was why he was fighting now, of his own will. Dragon was never in His Majesty's Service, he always did what he wanted, he helped because he wanted to, or because he was forced to by his red-haired best friend. He gave a wry smirk.

_All this happened because of one little short-life?_

He surveyed the area below; Sir Rusty Legs gave him specific orders so they could use his aerial abilities to the utmost advantage.

He was to assist the areas of heavy conflict, making priority to the skirmishes that were losing to the enemy forces. Due to his impenetrable scales, this tactic of weaving in and out of where he is needed most was working perfectly and the tide was slowly turning in their favor.

Dragon had assisted the archers on the parapets, the soldiers on the ground, and the Knights in the front. His torrent of fire had burnt enemies, his raking claws had tasted blood, and his swinging tail had crushed ranks. All was done to protect his homeland, to be of help to Jane.

_Jane._

He was worried about her.

Dragon had not seen her since their reconnaissance mission before the break of dawn. He had seen Theodore, Ivon, and even Gunther, but not Jane. He wondered what had happened to his best friend, he feared the worst, but hoped he would see her soon.

As the raging din reached his ears he recalled the one who started this all. A certain Lord Victor.

_The Master and Lord of Politeness,_ Dragon scoffed.

He never trusted him from the beginning. Something about him was off-putting, and strange. He smelled of something, that with which he could not quite place, but after crushing the enemy's forces, it came back to him. A scent he had long forgotten but soon remembered. Victor smelled faintly of blood and death, and it scared him. Dragon was rarely scared of anything; the only thing that frightened him was losing his best friend. Jane told him that he was being absurd, that Lord Victor was a fine nobleman, the incarnation of chivalry. But Dragon knew there was something else beneath the surface, something very old, dark, and sinister. Beneath those aqua eyes was something that should not be in this world. And the paralyzing glares those icy eyes sent him brought shivers creeping up his spine, but he was ever more worried when those glances were directed at his beloved friend Jane—since she could not see, could not smell, could not feel what he could.

A shocking thought ran through him.

_If that bloody short-life lays one finger on her, I swear—!_

He stopped short when multiple explosions sounded, and turned in that direction.

He was both relieved and worried, happy and shocked, when he saw a certain head of scarlet hair that he recognized instantly as Jane. Her body was lying amid the rubble of the Castle's southeastern wall. Dragon breathed again when he saw her stir, she was slowly scrambling to her feet when his sharp eyes caught a flaming mass soar towards his cherished companion.

"JANE!" he bellowed, as he tore through the sky and snow to reach her in a race against death.

* * *

O0oo0O

* * *

The next chapter will continue on with all the battles, this chapter was meant to be longer, but I thought this would be a nice place to stop.

Do you like the changing viewpoints? Tell me your thoughts on this chapter in a review! :D

Happy Holidays and Happy New Years!

Until next time! :D


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